Get it Off
by Nefhiriel
Summary: Don't you hate it when you keep finding bugs in unexpected places? Before long you feel like they’re crawling all over you. Know the feeling? Halbarad & Aragorn are soon to discover it...


**Get it Off**

_By Nefhiriel_

**Rating: **PG

(**Warning**: if you're afraid of bugs it might be PG-13 to R, depending on how afraid you are, LOL)

**Genre: **Humor/Action/Adventure (horror? -g-)

**Characters: **Aragorn, Halbarad, Elladan, Elrohir, and Elrond

**Summary: **You know that feeling you get about bugs? You just keep stepping on them, & finding them in unexpected places. Before long you feel like they're crawling all over you, even when there's none in sight. Know the feeling? Halbarad & Aragorn are soon to discover it…

**A/N: **Well, I'm back from my vacation in sunny Arizona, andhave been feelingin the mood to post somthing... So here's a little something I wrote for the Fear challenge on the S.N.W.C.G.

I can usually buck-up when it comes to bugs, but after cleaning up the seemingly endless supply of Asian beetles out of our windowsills, and finding a spider in my bed--and one crawling down the curtain next to me--I decided it was time to give myself the luxury of a sympathy fic-g-

Oh,and Aragorn is about seventeen or so, at the time this story takes place. This is one of his first trips with the Rangers ;-) And, just because I always like to say it, for those who may not have heard me say it before, I don't write slash, so ah...yeah, this isn't -g-

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**Part 1: The Fun Begins**

Aragorn wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, shivering as the cool night air found its way to his skin, even past the three layers of blankets he was smothered in. It was cold, too cold to sleep, even if he could. But he had to stay awake until Halbarad returned, no matter what. He'd never been to Mirkwood before, but it certainly didn't look like the kind of forest one would wish to be caught in alone, or asleep. He just wished Halbarad would hurry.

With another shiver—one not entirely produced by cold—he decided it was definitely time to distract his mind from his surroundings. He thought back to the beginning of their journey. Immediately, he felt a small warmth of contentment swell to replace the gnawing fear the atmosphere of the woods had created. It was a feeling he'd experienced more and more often since he'd joined the Rangers.

Their journey had started out pleasantly enough: a simple trip to intercept a small band of Goblins that had been causing problems in the mountain passes. It had seemed rather routine, and straight-forward. They'd found the band of Goblins without too much trouble, tracking them East for a time, before finally catching up to them. The battle had started out as simply as the journey, with the Rangers obviously having the upper hand. Then, of course, things had to get complicated.

Aragorn himself couldn't recall exactly what had happened with too much clarity. All he'd known was that, in the middle of the battle, Halbarad had grabbed him by the wrist and physically begun pulling him away from the fight . Later, Halbarad had explained that a group of Goblins had broken off from the main fray, in an attempt to slip off unnoticed.

Feeling a slight swell of pride at having been chosen by Halbarad to help chase down the Goblins, Aragorn quickly squelched it. Doubtless, Halbarad hadn't even paid attention to _who _he'd pulled away with him, he'd probably simply grabbed the nearest able-bodied man. Nonetheless, he couldn't help but feel…honored, and proud to be the one to go with Halbarad.

However, as he peered into the darkness, he couldn't help but feel just a _little _unfortunate, at the moment. The Goblins _would _have chosen to hide in Mirkwood, of all places. In all good conscience, neither off them could've forsaken their quest then, leaving the Goblins to pester King Thranduil's border guards. But, by the time they'd dispatched the remaining Goblins, darkness had nearly been upon them, and they'd been forced to make camp, still some distance within the borders of the forest.

And then, of course, Halbarad _had_ to go and scout. He'd already been gone for ages, or at least what _felt_ like ages. Aragorn groaned inwardly, rubbing his frozen fingers together. The warmth of the friction wasn't nearly enough to thaw them. What he needed was a good, hot fire. The very thought sent shivers of pleasure down his spine. Unconsciously, his hand began groping for his flint. Just a small fire….

The image of crackling flames was just enough incentive to get him scrambling out from the protection of the blankets long enough to gather some kindling. Skillfully, heencouraged the small sparks until they blossomed into flame. Wrapping himself firmly once more in the blankets, he closed his eyes and held his hands out towards the small fire. His fingers began to tingle, and warmth spread across his body. Then, unexpectedly, something brushed his cheek.

Something soft.

His eyes flew open, as another something soft brushed his other cheek. In the orange glow of the fire, there were creatures were fluttering. But what were they? Birds? Surely not bats, they were almost white… And why were they flying _into _the fire? For that was what they were doing. With small cracking, hissing sounds, two more flew straight into the flames. One flew directly at his face, and he felt suddenly frantic as he realized what they were.

Moths.

Unbelievably huge moths.

The fire flickered and began to smoke more and more, as the flames fed on the moths that converged upon the light, creating a horrible stench as their bodies began to smother the fire.

Forgetting how cold he was, Aragorn leapt out of the blankets, stamping out the flames with his booted feet. Only when the last flame had flickered and died did he slump back to the ground. The smell of burnt insect lingered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to regain control of his stomach.

Now he was glad Halbarad hadn't been here, to witness this. Of course, Halbarad probably would have _known _Mirkwood was infested by bird-sized moths. He shuddered, refusing to think about the way their feathery bodies had brushed his face. The irony of the situation was enormous, he realized, regaining a small amount of control. Here he was, bruised and exhausted after a fierce encounter with Goblins, and a bunch of moths had turned him into a complete coward.

As the sound of footsteps alerted him to the fact that his companion was returning, he bit his lip, and tried to force the grayish hue he was certain his face had claimed to recede. Yes, he was _very _glad Halbarad hadn't been here to witness his humiliation.

"Strider," Halbarad greeted him casually, as he emerged out of the trees into the small clearing.

"What took you so long?" Aragorn flinched at how strained and shaken his voice sounded. He hadn't meant for it to come out that way…

Halbarad eyes roved between Aragorn, and the small pile of still-glowing coals. His eyes twinkled slightly in the moon light. "You seem to have done quite well in my absence."

Aragorn flinched again. Of course Halbarad would have seen the coals, he should have thought of that… Apparently, though, Halbarad was too tired to spend energy laughing at him. Aragorn realized that he too was exhausted, and beyond caring much whether he was laughed at. Three days of constant journey and hard fighting had worn them both out.

Halbarad motioned him to his feet. "I think I've found a better place for us to spend the night. Even without a fire, it should be warmer than sleeping out here in the open."

Aragorn rose as quickly as his frozen limbs permitted. "Where?"

"A cave, just a short distance from here."

Wrapping up his blankets, Aragorn trudged off after Halbarad. It only took them a few minutes to reach the cave. Aragorn looked ahead at the looming blackness of the entrance and hesitated.

"Are you sure it's…uninhabited?"

"No. But I plan on sending you in first," Halbarad said dryly, his weariness partially covering what was meant to be a teasing tone. "If anything eats you, then we'll know, won't we?"

Aragorn smiled, and entered the cave. Many elven traits seemed to be rubbing off on him from his adopted family, but luckily claustrophobia wasn't among his fears yet. Although the cave was small, and the walls narrow, he managed to push away his initial uncertainties.

The way his eyes kept drooping shut was also a factor that encouraged him to simply to drop down onto his mat, and wrap himself up in his blankets. Next to him, Halbarad followed suit, but merely sat cross-legged on his mat, wrapping his own blanket around his shoulders.

"I'll take first watch," he said, quietly. "You rest."

Aragorn sheepishly realized he'd forgotten all about taking watches… Halbarad truly looked dead tired, and more in need of sleep—something which seemed nearly impossible, considering how exhausted he felt himself. Slowly, he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"Perhaps you should take the first rest… I had a break while you were scouting." If his words lacked their usual energy, he did his best to look earnest.

Halbarad hesitated. He hated to accept. After all, Aragorn was probably nearly as exhausted as he was. But in all honesty, he had to admit, he wasn't certain he could will his body to stay upright for a minute longer. If he had to, he might be able to stay away for a while longer… But he knew it would be pushing things. Even as he thought, he felt himself sway slightly, and tensed to keep from toppling over right them and there.

He looked searchingly at Aragorn, trying to assess the younger man's condition. Although obviously tired, there was still a sparkle of life in his eyes. If he could only handle watch for an hour so...

"Please, I can handle it for a couple of hours," Aragorn urged.

At last, Halbarad nodded reluctantly. "But you _will_ wake me _before_ you become too tired to keep your eyes open?"

"I will."

Halbarad was asleep instantly, leaving a very tired but very determined Aragorn to watch for several uneventful hours.

Aragorn actually managed to keep his eyes open for a great deal longer than he had thought possible. Occasionally, he would rise, and wander out to the front of the cave. The cool night breeze that was blowing helped keep his senses alert and, while watching the moon rise wasn't generally considered the most exciting of pastimes, it was _something _to watch. As long as the moon was in his vision, he knew his eyes weren't drifting shut. Whenever the moon began to eclipse horizontally, his would quickly snap his drooping lids back open.

After what he judged to be close to three hours had passed, he finally gave up. Walking back into the cave, he gently woke Halbarad. It took the older ranger some minutes to effectively clear the grogginess from his brain, but when he did, and recognized the face of his companion staring down at him, framed in the moonlight, he sat up.

"I'm awake, I'm awake…" he muttered, throwing the blankets off his legs.

Aragorn repressed the sarcastic replies that sprung to mind. He was too tired to joke around tonight.

Halbarad blinked a couple more times, before placing a hand on the younger ranger's shoulder. "You get some sleep, Aragorn."

Aragorn let his head fall forward in something resembling a nod of agreement, and than instantly dropped down onto his own sleeping roll—his last conscious act for the night.

**Part 2: It Gets Even Better**

Halbarad yawned and stretched before pulling himself to his feet. The sun was just barely rising over the treetops, but it was time for them to move on. He'd already given Aragorn twenty minutes more sleep than he'd planned on. He smiled as he stood over the sleeping boy.

"Aragorn, time to get up," he said, gently beginning to shake him. To his surprise, Aragorn's hand shot out to swat his away with surprisingly good aim.

"Go away, El'dan…" came the muffled rejoinder from under the blanket.

Halbarad's smile increased. "I'm not Elladan, young one, and I'm not going away, so you'd best get up."

Aragorn's eyes sprang open, sleepy grey eyes locking on the older ranger's face, hovering above him. Reality came back to him in a jolt—as did his words and actions of a moment ago. He looked sheepishly at Halbarad, as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "Did I just…?"

"Yes, you did," Halbarad replied with amusement. "But never mind, you only got my hand. Thank Eru I didn't lean further over, or you might have gotten me in the face. Those are fine reflexes you've got, Aragorn."

Aragorn felt his face turn red with embarrassment at the gentle teasing. Among the rangers, each new day was started with the bustle of camp life. Since he'd joined them on this, his first longjourney as one of them, he'd always been woken up by the quiet—and occasionally not-so-quiet—noises of the other men, as they began stirring about their preparations for the day. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't needed anyone to wake him up since he'd left Rivendell. When Halbarad had attempted to rouse him, he'd still been far too close to sleep to recognize his surroundings—and see that he wasn't in Rivendell—or to recognize the person waking him—who was not one of his brothers.

"Come, don't be embarrassed, Aragorn." Halbarad spoke seriously, noting his discomfiture. "Mistaking me for one of your brothers is nothing to be so ashamed of, and…you really do have fast reflexes. They will serve you well as warrior—as I'm sure Elladan has told you."

Aragorn grinned back. Each day he spent with Halbarad, he grew to respect and love the ranger more. Halbarad had accepted him with a natural ease and genuineness that'd he'd found in few places, other than with his adopted elven family, and with Legolas. Just knowing that at least one ranger took him seriously, and even considered him with fondness, took an enormous weight off his heart.

"Thank you," he said, softly.

"You're most welcome," Halbarad said seriously, seeming to sense the double meaning of his gratitude. Fixing the boy with an exaggeratedly stern expression, he barked, "Now, out of bed with you! You've already had nearly _four _hours of sleep, which is far more than your lazy sort deserves." He stooped over, and rolled up his sleeping mat, and began gathering together the rest of their supplies.

Aragorn followed his example, although at a considerably slower pace, at first. Soon, however, he'd cleared the last of sleep from his head, and stood next to Halbarad, packed, and ready to begin their trek back.

Sunlight was beginning to filter through the dense foliage, and they paused just inside the cave's entrance, inhaling the fresh, green-smelling forest air. Aragorn was just about to take another step forward, when Halbarad's arm shot out in front of him, barring his way.

"What's the probl—"

"Quiet," Halbarad whispered fiercely, head erect and eyes darting over the surrounding forest intently.

Aragorn quieted, and scanned the trees as well. His eyes, however, were not the first of his senses to be alerted to the danger. First, there was a hissing noise, so faint, it might have been the sigh of leaves. Then a louder hissing noise—this time unmistakable _as _a hiss—followed by the sound of many scurrying feet. The scurrying grew louder and louder. He looked up and saw Halbarad clench his jaw.

"What…is it?" he whispered, hardly expecting to get an answer.

Halbarad closed his eyes just for moment, and said wearily, "Spiders."

Aragorn's eyes went wide. He'd heard about the Mirkwood spiders, but never actually seen one. By report they were large, carnivorous, and… He stopped himself, as the leaves on a nearby bush began to rustle. The spiders were nearly upon them. This was no time for cowardly thoughts—or a sudden bout of arachnophobia. His hand groped for his sword's hilt, and he looked to Halbarad for instruction.

Halbarad drew his own sword, and nodded encouragingly at him. "Stay close to me, and watch out for their stingers." Optimistically, he added, "Don't worry, though, there probably aren't that many."

Aragorn drew his sword, and forced his hands to stop shaking. Right then and there, he decided that there was _definitely_ nothing worse than the unknown. Why wouldn't the spiders just hurry up already? When the first of the dark-bodied creatures crawled out of the underbrush, he immediately regretted such rash wishes.

The great, ugly, black forms of the spiders detached themselves from the shadows of the trees. They were headed directly for the cave, and all hope was lost that they might remain unseen. As the spiders drew closer, the only indication that they'd been detected was a sudden screech from the leading spider. The noise was repeated in a ripple through the alerted group of spiders. There was a pause, as the creatures chittered amongst themselves. In the end, their decision was obvious, as the leader once moregave a hiss, and they simultaneously charged the two lone humans.

Halbarad shot him a reassuring glance, as he claimed the first of the advancing spiders as his own, easily side-stepping it and plunging his sword into its abdomen.

Aragorn lost track of him for the next couple of minutes, as he was engaged in slashing, hacking, and blocking at an increasingly quickened pace, as he avoided the spider's pinchers and stingers. Luckily, he was no novice when it came to using a weapon. He might have lacked experience, but his elven brothers had made certain he knew how to handle himself in a fight. Besides, he had fought orcs, and other evil creatures before. As soon as he was able to overcome his initial intimidation at the sight of the giant insects, he was able to fall into the rhythmic flow of blocking, parrying, dodging, and lunging.

Both of them fought their hardest, and although the first onslaught had driven them further into the cave, they continued to slay the monsters with comparative ease. Finally, Halbarad lifted his sword to finish off the last of the foul creatures. Kicking out, he caught it in the eyes with his foot. It shrieked in pain, but managed to duck in time to avoid Halbarad's powerful sideways sweep with the sword. It took advantage of the small pause, and lunged. More stumbling than actually dodging, Halbarad was just able to get out of the way. He brought his sword down across its neck in a decisive stroke, severing the spider's head.

Aragorn, who had just been coming to his aid, and was standing next to him, shared in Halbarad's messy fate. As the sharp blade decapitated the spider in a clean stroke, its blood spurted straight at the two unfortunate men. In a split second, they were both covered in stinking, blackish-green blood. They stood, panting, at the back of the cave for some minutes, regaining their breath, before Halbarad finally spoke.

"That was…" He searched for a fitting description, that might not shed too poor a light upon either of their manliness. "That was…rather unpleasant."

"You might say that." Aragorn attempted wiped some of the blood off of his cheek with his sleeve, but as the material itself was already splattered with spider blood, he only ended up smearing it around.

"Come, let us get out of here."

It was easier said than done. During the fight, almost without their notice, they'd been backed up, nearly against the back wall of the cave. Before them, covering the ground between them and the small entrance, lay the stinking carcasses of their dead foes. Their only way out lead them across the carpet of spiders. It wasn't really what a ranger—who was, of course, immune to such things—might call a problem. They weren't trapped, after all. At least, not technically speaking. But, somehow, especially after having been so recently drenched in spider blood, the prospect of crossing…_that_ was less than appealing.

The thought, combined with the sight and stench, made both their stomachs lurch—just a little. Neither, however, would have admitted to such weakness. Halbarad felt the pressing need to be a model to the younger ranger, and Aragorn felt the need to show that he was strong enough to handle the situation. So, swallowing back the bile that rose in the back of their throats, they smiled briefly at each other, and steeled themselves for the crossing.

They began, making sure not to look down. The sound-effects were quite enough. There was the crunching sound, when one stepped on a leg, or the squishing sound if your foot happened to land upon a more juicy part of the insect's anatomy. In addition to that, the occasional twitching of a not-quite-dead spider had both men hacking at a couple of the larger spiders—just to be safe.

It was dark at the back of the cave, and by the time they'd reclaimed the entrance the cacophony of squishy sounding crunches, and crunchy sounding squishes had become unnerving, as well as _quite_ "unpleasant". Still, neither was about to admit such a thing. Not yet. Ranger's didn't get grossed out by _bugs_, even if they were extraordinarily big ones. Gigantic and carnivorous they might be, but they were still _bugs_. That they were ugly, hairy, utterly disgusting, and gross was also beside the point.

In silence, they cleaned their blades on the grass, and began their journey back toward Rivendell.

**Part 3: Real Men**

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and Halbarad and Aragorn felt…disgusting. Yes, they'd both finally admitted it to themselves: their predicament _was_ disgusting. There was no other word to describe it. Fresh spider blood was bad enough, but drying spider blood, as they were discovering, became quite pungent when baked in the sun. And drying spider blood, on top of the orc filth they'd had no opportunity to wash off the previous night… Real men or no, a thorough bath, and a chance to clean their clothes sounded _wonderful._

Apparently, though, just because _they_ thought drying blood wasn't a pleasant scent, didn't mean their view was shared by everyone. Just when they didn't think things could get any more disgusting, things did. As they wove through the long grass, bit by bit they picked up their own personal swarm of flies, gnats, and mosquitoes. Lovely.

Their clothes were stiff with the dark green substance, and the conversation was greatly lacking, as they both dismally considered the distance to the closest river. The closest _usable _river that was. The closest river would have been the enchanted river. Not exactly an option for bathing. They weren't that desperate yet.

_Just hold on until we reach the Old Ford… Just don't throw up, don't throw up in front of _him_… Don't make a fool of yourself…_

Had they been able to read each other's minds, they might have been surprised at the similarities of their thoughts that afternoon. As it was, they were both too preoccupied with their individual misery. The day was filled with clipped conversations and long silences, until, finally, as the sun began to descend from its zenith. Halbarad spoke the first cheerful words since the morning.

"We should reach the Ford soon."

Aragorn offered him a weak smile, and tried not to look too eager. "Good."

They were indeed close. The sound of running water soon greeted their ears, and it was all they could do to keep from running. Water at last. Reaching the bank, their pride only held them at bay but a moment.

"Let us rid ourselves of this spider-stench."

Aragorn didn't need anymore encouragement. The two men hastily waded into the river, closing their eyes in pleasure as the cool water washed away the grime of battle. They removed their blood-encrusted shirts and coats, rinsing them, and themselves, thoroughly before climbing back out onto the bank and setting up camp. Aragorn got the fire going, secretly much relieved to be out of the dark woods, with its ridiculously large insect life. After last night, the wide-open plains were nothing if not reassuring.

Filling their canteens with fresh water, they sat down to eat their rations of dried venison and waybread in companionable silence. Darkness set in, and they spread out their sleeping mats.

"Get your sleep first tonight, Aragorn. I think you had less sleep than I last night."

Aragorn blinked, realizing that his eyes had been closed. Tonight, he wasn't going to argue. "Yes… I am tired. You will wake me, though?"

"Of course. But I think I can manage a couple of hours yet. Don't worry about it." Faint humor sparkled in Halbarad's eyes. "I'll keep the insects at bay, rest without fear."

Aragorn snorted in derision at the idea, as he lay down on his mat, turning his face away from the fire, and feeling its comforting warmth against his back. He wasn't afraid of insects. At thought of insects, however, he automatically recalled the spiders they'd fought that morning, and the feeling of walking over their bodies, and of their blood all over him… A shiver raced down his spine, as he felt the imaginary prickle of insects crawling on his skin. He rubbed his arms, banishing the sensation, and turned his thoughts to a pleasanter subject.

He was clean. As embarrassed as he would have been to admit it to any of the rangers he traveled with, whenever he was away from Rivendell one of the feelings he missed most was that of being absolutely, irrefutably _clean_. He'd never thought about it that much when he was with his elven family, but being dirty did take some getting used to, and he wasn't certain whether he liked it or not. Among the rangers, it usually wasn't completely desirable to be overly concerned over cleanliness, as he'd found out the hard way. The rangers, in general, had always been kind to him, but they'd been more than a little amused when he'd displayed his abnormally clean tendencies.

Right now, however, Halbarad seemed quite content to be clean as well. He pulled his blanket around his shoulders and slept. Or, at least, he _tried_ to. He was bone-weary, but every time his mind settled down to rest, his skin would again begin to tingle, as if spiders were crawling all over his skin… He banished the thoughts of insects for second time, and a third time, but the crawling sensation didn't go away.

_Ouch._

He felt a distinctly sharp prick on his shoulder, reflexively reaching up to swat at whatever had bitten him. The crawling sensation began again. He shuddered. Was he losing his mind?

"Ouch!"

He didn't realized he'd vocalized the word until it was too late. This time he'd felt the prick on his hand.

"What is it?" Halbarad questioned, frowning.

"I'm not sure, I just keep feeling this…" As he spoke, Aragorn looked down at his hand, and immediately sat bolt upright. "Ants…"

They were crawling over his arms, latching onto his skin with their sharp pinchers. Suddenly—in a flash of panic—the crawling sensation he was feeling all over the rest of his body made sense. Horrible, non-imaginary sense. He wasn't crazy: he'd just made his bed on a nest of fire ants. With a yelp, he jumped to his feet, his automatic response to head for the river.

"No!" Halbarad bellowed after him. "Don't go into the river—it won't do any good! Run! Brush them off you as you run!"

Aragorn did as he was told. If he could have seen himself, running to-and-fro across the fields, brushing his arms and face frantically as he tried to dislodge the insects, he would have laughed hysterically. He returned at last to camp, breathless and sweating, with his clothes in complete disarray.

Halbarad smothered a grin. "Did you get them all?"

"Ye—" Aragorn affirmation turned into another yelp, as he bent over to swat at his leg, shaking his pants leg desperately to extricate the stinging creature.

Halbarad had to double his defenses against the laughter that would have surely have come out. "Sit down," he commanded, pointing to the ground.

Aragorn complied, after eyeing the ground distrustfully, and making certain there were no anthills. Article by article, they sorted every piece of his clothing, plucking out the biting insects and squashing them. Aragorn did so with much gusto, and with an unmistakable glint of vengeance in his eyes. That done, they next turned to his sleeping mat. It was infested, and took a lot of brushing off, and whacking against a nearby oak, before Aragorn was satisfied. He lay his mat down on Halbarad's side of the fire—inspecting the ground beneath thoroughly beforehand.

The disgruntled young ranger flopped down wearily, mumbling, "What a day…"

"The insects appear to have some vendetta against you, my friend," Halbarad agreed.

Aragorn's only response was another irritated-sounding mumble, which soon morphed into a gentle snore. Chuckling, Halbarad shook his head, and settled in for a number of long and wakeful hours.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

In the morning, the two of them quickly packed up camp and shouldered their belongings. All of Aragorn's movements were punctuated by scratching. He felt awful—and looked even worse.

Halbarad valiantly choked back laughter, but couldn't conceal the smile that spread over his face every time he looked at Aragorn. Red marks decorated his face, and all other visible skin. Nonetheless, he was aware of how badly the bites must be itch, and he helped the young ranger spread ointment over them, before they started out at a steady pace for Rivendell.

For his part, Aragorn stoically bore his companion's amusement all morning long. However, by afternoon, the itching had grown worse, and Halbarad's control was beginning to slip. He'd stopped grinning so broadly by now, but whenever he looked at Aragorn's red-spotted face, and tried to take him _seriously_… Well, suffice it to say, conversation just went downhill from there.

Aragorn ground his teeth, falling back from Halbarad as he stopped to itch his legs. Halbarad continued for a few paces, but stopped not far ahead, resting his foot on a log as he waited for Aragorn to catch up, surveying the way ahead. He really should stop chuckling at the poor boy, he decided. After all, it wasn't like he'd asked to be bitten by… The thought trailed off, as a cracking sound reached his ears. With an even louder crack, his foot fell through the rotten wood beneath him. He pulled his leg upwards, in an attempt to extricate it, but it was stuck.

At that point, he might have been able to laugh the situation off with only a little embarrassment, due to the fact that he'd assumed the log could hold his weight. True, having your foot stuck in a rotten log wasn't one of the least humiliating of positions one might oneself in, but if he promised not to mention the red ant incident, surely Aragorn wouldn't spread the news. He still had leverage enough to redeem the situation.

He tugged at his leg harder, but his foot remained trapped. Although the thought had never occurred to him before, he was suddenly quite aware that there _was _such a thing as a phobia of having your foot trapped in a log. As he renewed his efforts, he risked a glance backwards. Aragorn was still busy scratching. He might not even need to use that leverage if he hurried…

The log thumped up and down against the ground from his exertions, and a peculiar buzzing sound began to emanate from it. It sounded like… His eyes went wide, as hornets began to swarm out of the rotten wood, and he took an involuntary step backwards. That, of course, did absolutely no good, as he only dragged the log with him.

The hornets attacked in earnest, and he ducked his head, hiding his face in the crook of his arm as they stung at every part of his skin they could reach. He stumbled backwards, ineffectually swatting at them with his free hand. Had he not been so frantic, he might have realized the futility of his actions, but he was neither calm nor collected enough to think that clearly. The only good his bumbling movement gained him was freedom for his ensnared leg. The log splintered as he fell onto his back, and his foot came lose. Instantly, he scrambled to his feet, and began running towards the river. Again, had he but thought, he would have realized that the river was not the best answer, but his mental processes by this time could hardly be called "thinking".

By now his frantic motions had caught Aragorn's attention. The sight of Halbarad running toward the river with a swarm up hornets surrounding and following him was definitely enough to distract him from his own problem.

"Halbarad, no! Don't head for the river—it won't do any good! They'll only wait for you to resurface! Just _run_!"

Halbarad did run. For what seemed like an eternity, he ran as fast as he could. At first, it didn't seem to do any good. The hornets continued to sting him, appearing to keep up with him with an ease that was maddening. However, gradually, the stinging sensation ended. The buzzing behind him was still enough to keep him on his feet and running for a few more minutes, but, at last, even the buzzing behind him ceased. He collapsed onto the ground. After many minutes had passed, Aragorn stumbled upon him.

"Halbarad? Are you…alright?" When the miserable figure sitting on the ground only groaned, Aragorn crouched down next to him. He caught a glimpse of Halbarad's face and winced at the red spots that were appearing all over his skin. Lowering his pack to the ground, he riffled around for the ointment he'd applied to his own bites just hours before. Taking one of Halbarad's arms, he began to smooth the cream over the angry red marks.

"What took you so long?" Halbarad muttered, stirring.

Aragorn began work on his other arm, paying no attention to his ornery tone of voice. "What? You didn't think I'd jump right over that hive you disrupted, and charge into that swarm of hornets to rescue you? I had to take the long route to get here."

Halbarad growled irritably, and lowered his head to rest in hands. He instantly regretted it. His forehead felt like one massive, swollen bee-sting.

"Come on, Halbarad, let me take a look at your face."

Halbarad flinched as Aragorn applied ointment to the bites on his face. With nowhere else to look, he fell to studying his companion's face. A very amusing-looking face it was at the moment, too. That was when the irony of their painful situation struck. He chuckled.

Aragorn shot him a worried glance. "Is something…funny about this situation?"

Halbarad only chuckled harder. "My friend," he finally managed. "what a sight we must make."

Aragorn's face broke into a grin. "Indeed."

**Part 4: Safety**

Rivendell: the Last Homely House. They'd arrived. After many days of miserable travel they'd finally reached it—not soon enough in either of their opinions. Both of their "battle wounds" were beginning to fade, but even after they'd overcome the first stage of healing, they'd still itched terribly. They knew enough about healing to know that itching such bites was not in their best interests—but it was nearly impossible not to! Whoever had suggested _not_ itching, had obviously never been stung by hornets or fire ants.

One thing the two of them were discovering was a sudden mutual hatred for insects. They'd had more than their fill of spiders, ants, and bees for one trip. Suddenly, the aspect of staying in Rivendell—in a room clean even by _elven_ standards—seemed far more appealing than either of them had ever remembered. They would be out in the wilds again soon enough, but for just a couple of days, staying in an insect-free house sounded like absolute paradise.

As they quietly passed the sentries and crossed the bridge, Aragorn's thoughts turned toward the inevitable meeting with his elven family. He would be glad—overjoyed—to see them again, after the many months he'd spent away with the rangers. But at the same time, he was hesitant. They would know something was up. He didn't know how, but they always knew, and he would sooner die as tell them that he was traumatized by…bugs.

"Halbarad…" he began, hesitantly, as they entered the courtyard.

"Yes?" Halbarad responded, glancing over at him.

"I won't tell if you won't."

Apparently, the same thing had been on Halbarad's mind, for he didn't pause to ask what it was that they weren't to tell. He nodded. "It's a deal. I won't say a word, not under pain of torture."

"Agreed."

The bargain was struck just in time. In a matter of moments they were overpowered by two exuberant twins and a smiling elf lord. After Elladan and Elrohir were finished smothering their younger brother, Elrond greeted him in a far more dignified manner, but with no less affection.

"Welcome home, ion-nín, we have missed you."

Aragorn exchanged a smile with Halbarad. "It is good to be home, Ada. _Very_ good."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Familiar smells, familiar faces, familiar drapes and decorations, and most importantly at the moment, a familiar room—with a familiar bed. Aragorn sank down onto its welcoming softness, quickly pulling off his boots, and shrugging out of his coat, and changing into his blessedly-clean sleep clothes.

There were many things changing about _him_, but Rivendell always seemed to stay the same. He burrowed under the ample covers, a smile lighting his face as he thought about his elven brothers. Ten human life-spans might pass, and yet he felt they would always remained as immature, reckless, and loving as ever. He closed his eyes with that reassuring thought, and felt his mind begin to drift away into the realms of sleep, comfortable in both mind and body.

Well, he _was _comfortable. For a minute. Then, a familiar crawling sensation crept up his spine. He shuddered, and blocked it from his mind.

_I am in Rivendell. I am _not _sleeping on an ant-hill. I am home. In a _real _bed._

But all his denial wouldn't make the sensation go away. It felt so real, as if a bug were crawling across his skin… Inexplicable fear seized him, and he ran a hand over his arm, trying to absolve himself of the imagined sensation. But, instead of just skin, his fingers made contact with something else. Something small, and prickly. Sitting up quickly, he looked down at himself. A large beetle was crawling slowly up his arm.

He didn't mean to do it. He hadn't _meant _to shout, or jump out of bed because of _beetle. _But he did. The surprise of an insect, in a place he'd considered "safe" from any such infestations, caught him completely off guard. Before he could fling the beetle away from him, Halbarad appeared in the doorway.

"Aragorn, what…?"

The older ranger didn't finish his sentence. Reflexively, Aragorn shuddered, and shook the beetle off his arm. His aim couldn't have been better—or worse, in Halbarad's case. It caught him straight in the face. The surprise then became mutual, and Halbarad took a step backwards, unconsciously allowing a small yelp to escape him as well. The beetle landed on the floor, and continued to crawl on, innocent and unaware.

The two rangers stood, shivering slightly in their light nightclothes and bare feet, as the silence became increasingly uncomfortable. When the silence was interrupted in the form of two young elf lords coming down the hall, both of them cringed.

"Estel, is something wrong?"

Aragorn looked sheepishly from Elladan to Elrohir. "Ah…not really."

Halbarad supported him with enthusiasm. "No, no… nothing's wrong." His attempt at being casual sounded forced, and he knew it. And so did the twins.

Elladan scrutinized Aragorn suspiciously. "Nothing? Oh really… Then why are the two of you standing here in your nightclothes?"

Neither of them had a plausible answer for that one.

Elrohir frowned. "You two are acting strange. What were those noises we heard? I thought I heard someone cry out, several times in fact…"

"Oh _that_…" Halbarad stalled. "That was…That was… Aragorn."

"Estel?" Elrohir looked at his little brother with concern.

"Yes, it was me…I…"

"He had a nightmare," Halbarad supplied.

"A nightmare?" Elrohir asked gently. "What was it about, muindor?"

Aragorn swallowed hard, and tried to think of something that sounded frightening enough. "Well…I…It was about…"

"Spiders."

Elladan narrowed his eyes at Halbarad. "Why do you keep finishing his sentences for him? If I didn't know better, I'd think you two were lying to us."

"What's this all about?" Elrohir demanded. "What's this _really _all about?"

Aragorn looked down at the floor, where a certain beetle happened to be crawling towards his feet, oblivious to the trouble it had caused. Grinning sheepishly, and looking still more embarrassed than before, he muttering quietly, "A beetle."

**The End**

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! I've been finding so many spiders in my room, of late, thinking about this story for too long probably isn't the best thing I could do for my overactive imagination...LOL. 

If you have the time, I would appreciate it _ever_ so much if you'd drop me a few lines. I alwayshaunt the computer, biting my nails until I get feedback, you know ;-)


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